


Everybody Talks

by thecoldlightofday



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 06:45:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecoldlightofday/pseuds/thecoldlightofday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shane is pretty skilled at interrogation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everybody Talks

The thing about Rick and his methods, his being the good guy shit, was that all in all it was pretty damn inefficient.

There were tricks to getting people to talk. There were ways you went about it. And none of what Rick had in mind was it. Rick had it in his head that above all else they had to maintain integrity. Shane knew better than that.

It wasn’t about working Randall over. It wasn’t about winning Randall with kindness or building loyalty from trust. It was about getting the results you needed, the information that was crucial, another shade of interrogation, something that pretty much stayed the same regardless of the mess the world had turned into.

Shane had been good at interrogations back in the day.

He paid Randall a visit around supper. Everyone else was inside the house washing up, T-Dog patrolling on the other side of the property leaving Randall unguarded and alone. Shane just unlocked the shed door and closed it behind him, quiet except for the sound of his and Randall’s breathing, the occasional rattle of Randall’s chains.

“Who’s there?” Randall called out at him, stumbling sideways and forward when he stretched his chains as far as they would go. “Hello?” He still had the blindfold wrapped around him. The blindfold hid the shiner Daryl had given him and partially covered the cut stretching up and down his face.

Randall shrunk away when Shane didn’t answer. He held his cuffed hands in front of him, forearms against his chest, acting as if that was going to protect him. He looked a sad sight: hair ruffled in a million directions, bruised and battered and in bloodied clothes. He looked cute in a way that made Shane want to ruin him. And maybe Rick had more than his fair share of good reasons for wanting to keep Shane away.

Shane didn’t have anything to say to Randall. He was saving his best material for later. He put a hand on Randall’s shoulder instead. He shoved Randall down, kept pushing until Randall realized Shane wanted him to sit. He sat immediately and awkwardly, trying to maneuver himself into place. It wasn’t easy, not being handcuffed and chained. Once he was seated Shane got to work, adjusting the chains so that they were tighter and wouldn’t give. Then he uncuffed one of Randall’s hands so he could fold both his arms behind his back and recuff them that way, near his tailbone so he could get a little leverage but not enough.

He tugged off Randall’s blindfold, pleased with himself when the look Randall gave him was all terror. Randall didn’t doubt his intentions, didn’t harbor any grand delusions of gentility surviving into the apocalypse like Rick. Randall knew the time they lived and how things worked.

Randall started talking. “Oh god please don’t kill me. He said you couldn’t, right? That other guy said you couldn’t kill me.” Randall tried to scoot back and couldn’t, the shortened chains trapped him in place.

“Shh.” Shane said. All gentle and soothing, firm enough to let Randall know he wasn’t about to get away. “Shh.”

Randall wasn’t the least bit reassured by that.

So Shane stepped it up. Plan put into action. He learned in, both hands holding Randall’s face steady, and traced his mouth over Randall’s cheek. He was careful about it, kept his lips soft but not open. After everything Randall had been through, two near deaths and Daryl’s beating, the poor kid couldn’t help but respond to the touch. Some of the tension drained from Randall’s body, Randall’s shoulders slumped the tiniest bit forward, and his breaths started to grow steadier and further apart. Shane let it go on a while longer before he stopped.

“What…what are you doing?” Randall’s eyes were wide as he stared up at him. They lacked the fear from earlier.

Shane pressed his lips to the side of Randall’s neck. “Does it matter?”

Judging from the noises Randall started making, Shane guessed it didn’t. Randall _was_ a teenage boy. Maybe a few years over teenager, but still a young and eager boy. There were some things kids Randall’s age wouldn’t give up regardless of the circumstances.

Shane didn’t waste any time. Someone would come by to feed Randall soon. The last thing he needed was to get caught before he’d gotten anywhere.

He shoved his hand into Randall’s pants. Randall sighed happily as he did it, slid his hand right under the elastic band of Randall’s underwear. Randall was already hard, his hips jerking at the very first touch, light, really nothing more than teasing, Shane just cradling Randall’s cock with the flattest part of his palm. He didn’t need to do anything else to get Randall going.

“You like that?” He asked as he started to go at it for real. Short, quick pumps that Shane himself liked best.

Randall nodded.

“Good.” Shane swiped his thumb back and forth over the head of Randall’s cock. Randall sounded halfway to crying, a wordless, needy want coming from his open mouth. “You want me to keep doing what I’m doing?” That question was rhetorical, clearly, and he continued before Randall tried to answer. “You tell me where to find your group. Otherwise…” He didn’t need to threaten Randall. Randall could feel his hand as it started to draw away.

“No!” Randall yelled too loudly. Shane clamped his free hand over Randall’s mouth, shushing him as they both listened for the sound of any approaching footsteps. Nothing. No one come running out to check. “Don’t stop. You can’t.”

“I can.” Shane said it almost sadly, as if he was just as broken up over the prospect of letting go of Randall’s dick. And he might have been, for entirely different reasons. He liked watching Randall squirm.

“I don’t…” Randall trailed off, groaning, hips straining to thrust up. That was a pointless effort, however. Shane had made sure Randall would barely be able to move. Randall panted, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “I don’t know. _Honest_.”

“Yeah you do. You know where your group is staying.” Shane slowed his hand. Not stopping, just getting slower and slower with his strokes.

Randall shook his head. He started whining, too turned on to talk. Whatever he tried to say came out garbled.

“You tell me what I want and maybe I let you fuck me, huh? Man, I’ll take you for a _ride_.”

Randall moaned loudly at that. He tried to lift himself higher, seeking out more friction, straining hard to support his weight with his bound hands.

“I said maybe.” Shane licked at the bite he’d made on Randall’s throat earlier. He moved his face up so that their cheeks were touching, his mouth against Randall’s ear. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Gotta hold up your end of the bargain.”

He spat into his hand. Randall watched him, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. His throat worked tightly as he swallowed. A flush fanned out from his nose like sparrow wings. Shane gripped Randall’s cock again, gave one long jack from head to base.

“We were camped on the outskirts.” Randall’s eyes caught Shane’s, desperate, and Shane rewarded him with another stroke, faster. He kept his hand on Randall, around him, no more teasing and pulling off. He was getting somewhere just like he knew he would.

“C’mon.” He kissed beneath Randall’s ear. “Gimme specifics. C’mon. You’re doing good.” He sped up the pace again, felt Randall push as far into his fist as he could. “That’s it. Give it to me.”

Randall made a choked sound and sputtered, “five miles from here. South, you just gotta go south from the highway.”

There it was: the answer neither Rick nor Daryl had been able to get. Shane wanted to laugh. It had been so easy. Hadn’t taken much of anything at all. No blood, no violence. Nothing but Shane getting Randall to fall to pieces in his hand.

“Atta boy.” Shane was feeling generous, pleased with himself to boot, and he didn’t leave Randall there like he’d originally planned to. He jacked Randall off with a purpose, spit and precome slicking up his fist. Got Randall off like he meant it and Randall came groaning, eyes fluttering shut as he made Shane’s hand a mess. Shane stroked him through the aftershocks, drinking in the shudders Randall made when he got too sensitive to stand Shane’s touch. Might as well make it good for him. Kid was as good as dead now that he’d given up his only valuable information. Shane had been against keeping him alive from the start.

“So, uh,” Randall started talking again once his breathing was under control. He was smiling, grinning up at Shane like they were boyfriends and nothing that had gone on the past few days had been real. “You gonna let me fuck you now?” Randall inched his legs apart a little wider like he was trying to make room for Shane on his cock.

Shane just _had_ to laugh at that.


End file.
